


Darkest Desire || DBD: OnixOc

by Yutycorn



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angels, Bonding, Child Abuse, Death, Demons, F/F, F/M, M/M, Major trauma, Nephillium (totes spelled it right), Otherworldly Influence, Possessive Alpha, Soulmates, Switch Personality Sub, Trapped, Will add more as needed - Freeform, alpha/omega relationship, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yutycorn/pseuds/Yutycorn
Summary: "The night summons, like an unquenched love. Reckoning life like a dark desire." -Unknown"Find it in your heart to love, to trust, to open yourself just a little bit.""I can't." She trembles, looking away. "I don't think I ever will." Gently, he pulls her back to face him, his red eyes holding her blue ones. His hand cupped her chin -- larger than her face, but he was so gentle. He smiled behind his mask when she didn't flinch away."Then allow me to earn it,watashi no ai.""Okay," She sighs, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand, "Okay."
Relationships: Herman Carter | The Doctor/Feng Min, Kazan Yamaoka | The Oni/Original Character(s), Nea Karlsson/Claudette Morel, Philip Ojomo | The Wraith/Sally Smithson | The Nurse
Kudos: 19





	1. prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I see very few, if any at all, Oni x OC or Oni x Readers, thus I've been on the binge -- wishing to be able to read these fanfictions, only to fall short and get disappointed. I'm not the best writer out there, I certainly have my own faults, but why not share what I've been working on with other OnixOc lovers out there? Besides, it helps that I actually enjoy writing.
> 
> I do want you to be aware, I write as I get in the mood to write. I have short spells and long spells -- meaning chapter lengths could vary entirely. As well as post times. I wanted to make sure I warned ya ahead of time.
> 
> Now, on with the story!
> 
> Want to point out real quick -- other mentioned relationships or ships, may only ever be referenced, talked about briefly, or blatantly obvious. The story will be focused immensely around my OC and the Oni.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We only ever find ourself lost at the brink of death. However, in reality, we're found, and the sweet bliss of death will hold us in its arms and promise us release._
> 
> **Or so we think.**

### Prologue

_"What defines reality? Is it just that you can taste and touch. Feel the pain as the blade slides in between your ribs. Taste the iron tinged flavour of blood in your mouth and the smell of death as the darkness takes you? Is it hope that drives you on? Hoping that the next time will bring your actual death, or hope that the next exit reveals a way back home. I yearn for some kind of escape. Be it death or life." - Benedict Baker_

**|| Third POV ||**

How does life continue? Does is it comprise two that can make a third? A fourth? How can life go on if it depends so heavily on the ritual that combines two lives? For humanity, love and sex drive two together; whether it's the opposite or the same gender, love knows no bounds and will push two lives together to ensure the future. The desire to pass on genetics is another, fairly reasonable, incentive for living beings to come together. Yet, love prevails. Love comes through like rain in the driest of seasons.

Sometimes a person will reach out their hand towards another in hopes that the other will take their hand and hold it. The way the world works, or rather, the way love works, is such a strange phenomenon that even some decide against participating in. However, can one really turn away from something like love? Most people are born into loving arms at the sheer start of their lives. They are grown into it and learn to be unable to live without it -- seeking it in others who, too, seek it.

Love is in itself, a dark desire, a desire with two potential outcomes and an infinite number of variables. Many seek it and are left with broken hearts, some never seek it -- hearts intact -- but their souls are bitter with anger, jealousy, and doubt. Love is like a tsunami that floods into the towns, snagging any not strong enough to resist it, pulling them into the depths that wish only to drown and destroy.

Some find love to be just like that, a tsunami of emotions. A symbol that fears no man, no woman, a symbol in life of arbitrary feeling that isn't real. Many people believe that those who do not believe in love have suffered a great deal of hate as they grew. They'd be right to some degree, often those that have suffered do not believe in such a feeling. However, what if the one who has caused or created a great deal of suffering to many thousands -- yet they grew up with such a loving family -- would they be blinded by love? Or rather, would love abandon them?

For her, life had handed her a plate of hate with a side order of pain.  
For him, life handed him a katana to reap all of the corrupt from the face of the planet, only to become corrupt himself.

They come from the same dimension, but there's more than meets the eye to both of them. Time is irrelevant when your soul is bound to a demon's in a God's game of cat and mouse. Love is meant to cure all ailments. Will she come to trust such a feeling? Can love truly free her of those hateful, spiteful bindings, and will he seek her out and help free her? Or will she be blinded by tainted and self-deprecating memories or he, plundered by the shame that hate brings with it?

Problem is. He isn't the only one that can help her. If one can consider the entity's involvement help, that is. In a world of truly supernatural endeavors, the entity can sense what potential lies in her. It will stop at nothing to mold her into its perfected scythe -- fit for reaping the survivors' souls. If the entity has to break her down more, it won't hesitate.

Oh, and to top it all off with a sweet, succulent cherry -- they're bound by the could-be miracle or could-be curse of being soulmates.

**||**

The survivors awoke to the normal dark words, lit by an illusion of fire that never goes out. Surrounded are the usual dark trees that Claudette says never existed in her world. In addition, they're met with the familiar dry and stale air that gifts them unneeded oxygen. The fire is surrounded by fallen trees of old and many different tents which span around, some going several yards away from the fire itself. Claudette is eagerly tossing something into the fire, a sealed envelope of molded yellow coloring. She watched as the fire hungrily eats away the envelope's structure and hopes it bids her good luck when she's dragged away again.

Feng Min is watching with wary eyes. She didn't 'not' trust them, but she couldn't bring herself to open up to them. Despite how well acquainted they all were with one another, she found herself unsure of them all, ultimately outcasting herself from the rest of them. Ace and David are quietly playing a game, cards in the other's hands holding different spades, hearts, diamonds, and clubs. A deck is gently placed between them on a small stump that is no longer rooted to the ground. Bill is watching intently, eying them each with his eyes of wisdom, concerned for their wellbeing as he always had been. He'd been there for the longest, but the time, of course, was never relevant in this domain. If it ever could be.

Meg is panting, kneeling over with her hands on her knees. Her braids fall past her shoulders and hang by her face on either side. She obviously just returned from a run and when she looks up, a tired smile graces her lips. Nea is doodling. It's an image of the fire before her, something she tried drawing on multiple occasions, never satisfied with the image, always tossing it into the flames with disappointment. _Fire_. She scoffs outwardly at no one as she draws in another detail. Her scoff catches Tapp's attention, but once he realizes she's drawing, he looks away, brooding once more as he stands against a tree.

Jeff stretches and a yawn leaves his lips. He stands after a moment, scanning everyone, before walking to one of the tents in the back. Dwight squeaks, sounding an alarm of sorts as everyone turns to look at him. He takes a deep breath and waves his arms to show he was okay. Kate picks up her guitar which had been resting quietly against the log she was sitting on. She strums a few times, listening to the gentle tunes as they filled the air, before creating a consistent tone. Once satisfied with it, she began to sing with it, her voice matching with each strum of the strings.

Jake returns, he had no expression, practically motionless had he not been walking at that moment. Everyone seemed to be doing what they normally would do in the darkness, covered by the fire's light and what lamps or candles they had scavenged. Eventually, they began to talk to one another, oblivious and careless of the world surrounding them. Why should they care? They'd been there for a while, some longer than others. They didn't know what to expect, even when they did, but they didn't really try to think about the way their world works, at least, not anymore. Some had and always held solemn faces, like Feng Min or Meg, when they were alone. Their pasts, their lives, a constant reminder of what they lost or will never gain.

It happened quickly, a blood-curdling scream piercing the somewhat peaceful area, well, as peaceful as it can get with the darkness, the entity, and the whispers that plague the area constantly. The sound was definitely of a new person, her scream was that of fear. Everyone stood still for a moment, afraid until David huffs and stands. They watch him go out into the dark towards the origin of the noise. As David trudges through branch, stump, and root, he finds himself feeling dread. Survivors didn't go out this far in fear of the killers being out here, but when there's a scream, it often implies a new survivor, and David was the last one to let someone be out and about alone.

She was curled into a ball shivering and shaking, clearly whimpering with tears and sobs. David sees her clutching a log or a branch, he wasn't sure. Upon inspection, it was a stick, perhaps for a weapon, David thought to himself. He paused when his foot snapped a branch or a twig, causing her to jump with a startled gasp. She looked around quickly, scanning everything, her eyes landing on David. She backs away quickly, screeching. David immediately flinches at the sheer volume, inwardly wondering how such a small person had such a loud scream.

"Stay back!" She demanded, waving the stick around in anguish. It was as if his mere presence attacked her.  
"Easy, easy!" He tried, his voice above calm. He didn't know how to approach her. She looked so young. At least, she looked small.  
"Get away from me!" She hissed, still waving the stick wildly. David backed away, not sure what to do when he turns his head slightly and calls out;  
"Hey, can I get some help out here." The girl's eyes widen and she jumps to her feet and bolts. "Whoa wait! Calm down!" He shouts, noticing her taking off into the woods. "It's not safe out there! Come back!" However, she ignores him, racing between trees and branches and stumps.

Shouting is clear as she ran, and it only drove her to push herself harder. All she kept thinking of was when she was in a situation like this before. Her gnawing fear kept her adeptly alert. She didn't hesitate to watch every tree in front of her -- afraid someone would come out from behind one of them. She did notice the sheer darkness of the place, causing her to wonder. Where was she? What was going on? Who were those people? All of these questions went unanswered, the silence in her head a temporary relief. She pauses to hide behind a tree, clutching the stick in her hand. She doesn't dare peek behind, looking straight ahead. The trees look like sentinels, blocking her path out. She can hear them talking and chatting, voices that sound genuinely concerned. She holds her breath in hopes they didn't check there. They were obviously getting closer. One of the girls, Meg, looks behind her very tree, gasping as the two make eye contact. After yelping, the girl tries to take off again. However, someone grabs her free hand and she turns around with a wail, smacking the attacker with her stick. Her supposed attacker snatches the stick and tosses it away.

"We're trying to help you!" Claudette hollers. But the girl doesn't believe her as she manages to tear free from the man's grasp, her nails digging into his hand in order to dissuade his pursuit. He let's go and immediately grasps his hand. Trickles of blood flow from the small wounds.

She doesn't hesitate to take advantage of her freedom, sprinting off. Her wild attempt to flee causes her to look only forward, barely avoiding large trees and stumps as she goes. She can hear them catching up once more. She quietly curses her short legs for their inability to take her far. Suddenly, she trips over a root that stuck out like a sore thumb; she was too distracted to see it. She tumbles and rolls over a hill, screaming out in panic before finally stopping at the bottom. She tries to stand but falls with a pained yelp. David comes running down the hill, concern on his face. Claudette is right behind him, Meg right at her side. The girl panics, trying to get away, but one look at her leg says it all -- it was broken. Fearfully, she throws things at them in an attempt to chase them away, but her ammo runs out and she's left with decaying leaves and black dirt.

"Please stay away!" She begged, shielding her face with her arms. "Don't hurt me!"  
"We're not going to hurt you," came Meg's gentle voice. She was by her side now, Claudette on the other.  
"Yea, what Meg said. Listen, sweetie, we just want to help. Please stay calm. You've broken your leg. Let us help you," Claudette pleads, holding the girl's gaze. The girl stares at her as though she was a cornered animal, her options were clearly limited.  
"Guys..." David calls, they look at him and notice that he is looking at her legs, too. They look back and notice what he's seeing that they hadn't while being distracted by the broken limb.

The girl's legs were covered in aged scars, some seem somewhat fresh, as there appeared to be new scabbing over them. The broken limb was merely a doorway to what she has endured. Claudette found herself tracing the longest scar, one that started beneath her knee and went all the way down to right above her ankle. The girl shivered, moving the limb away, wincing in doing so. Claudette frowns at her, quickly wrapping the leg with a gauze that the girl hadn't even seen in her hand moments ago. She flinched each time the black woman's hand grazed her body. It was very obvious she was afraid. Afraid of getting hurt.

"Alright, now, sweetie," came Claudette's gentle voice, "David, this gentleman right here, and Ace," she beckons for someone with her hand, a tall man with a cap appears atop the hill, he tips his hat gently, "is going to help you to the campfire okay? There I can monitor your leg better and make sure you don't need medical attention anywhere else." The girl simply stared at her. It was clear she had no way of escaping.

David waits as Ace nearly tumbles down the hill, following David to either side of the girl. Carefully, they pick her up, hearing her whimper immediately. Ace whispers to her, telling her it's okay and that he's sorry. They lift her arms over their shoulders, hoping she'll put her weight on them. She does so, limping on one foot as they made their way back toward the campfire. The tents and fire and logs were a welcoming sight for the survivors, but the fire lighting a reflection in her eyes, it made her antsy. David and Ace gently place her near a log, a few satchels and small bags lined the back of it. Claudette comes around, minding the girl's legs as she takes a seat next to her. Ace notices the blood on his shoulder and discreetly lets Claudette know, who nods without looking back. Wherever the blood originates from, she intends to find it.

Gently, she checks both legs. The girl was wearing a tattered blue skirt and a tattered pink shirt. Both pieces of clothing were clearly old and had been worn for a long time. Checking up and down her legs, Claudette found no other injuries, except the already temporarily-tended-to broken limb. Carefully, she checks the girl's arms and notices a few scrapes along her left and a gash, still bleeding, on her right. A small gasp leaves Claudette as she quickly tends to the wounds. She wondered to herself who could have done this. None of them recognized this girl, so they assumed she was new or had been imprisoned in the realm before somehow escaping.

"Sweetie, who did this to you?" Claudette asks, managing to completely clean and wrap the gash in her arm.  
"A guy," she tells her, wincing as Claudette checks the leg again, seeing if it were a clean break or a mere fracture.  
"A guy here?" Claudette asks, still checking.  
"No, no. A guy in my city." the girl says, correcting Claudette, confirming this happened outside of the realm.  
"What's your name?" Ace asks, staying a few feet away. Men apparently made her even more uneasy, it was telltale based on her body language.  
"My mom named me Brittany." She answers, watching Ace with wary eyes, "No one ever used it though." She shrugs, her gaze back on Claudette.  
"Beautiful name," he compliments, taking a seat on a log across from the fire. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we'll use your name." Many nod in agreement.  
"Sorry for the scare, Brittany," David tells her, sitting next to Ace, handing him a small blue cardboard box.  
"Who are you people?" She asks, looking between them, "Where am I? Why am I here?" Claudette pauses, a frown gracing her lips.  
"You are in what we call the Fog." Bill says, watching as her eyes turn towards him. "This place is controlled by one known as the Entity. The Entity feeds off of us by forcing us into trials with others -- its servants, whom we refer to as killers. Killers chase us, nearly kill us, then place us on hooks to sacrifice to the Entity. Each has a unique ability which is used as a form of torture, it enables their chase."  
"What?!" Brittany exclaimed, flinching into the log.  
"As for why," Bill continues, ignoring her shock, "None of us really know the answer to that. Some believe it's punishment, others believe bad luck, and I believe it is as is." He pauses, allowing her to take it in, before he continues. "We're the survivors of this realm if it isn't clear already. Four of us are forced into a trial with the killers to escape or die."  
"I..." Brittany buried her face in her hands, more scars are clear on her arms in the fire's light. "I didn't do anything that I shouldn't have," she whispered, slightly muffled by her hands.  
"Don't worry, we'll all be here with you," Meg states, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'll try and help you out whenever we're forced into a trial together, alright?"  
"I don't understand," Brittany whimpered, tearing away from her hands staring at Meg. "It's not fair... I was so close," she whispers again, looking down. "I didn't want to live," she confesses, "So I jumped. I thought for sure I'd die, and prayed wherever I went, Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, nowhere, anywhere would be better than there with him, with them."

So she tried to kill herself, they all realize. Or she did and before she could cross over, the Entity snagged her soul and brought her here. Claudette sighed, pleased that Brittany's body could heal now, but devastated by what she's heard. Everyone here, of course, had their own story, but only one other, Bill, had come here after dying. The Entity had taken him as zombies mauled into his body. Claudette wondered how only a gash managed to sneak by the Entity if she jumped. Were there internal injuries? Did the Entity leave wounds unattended?

"How high was the jump?" Claudette asked because she needed to know, for more than curiosity's sake.  
"I was in my city." Brittany tells her, "I managed to climb up this five-story building." She pulled her knees to her chest, enveloping her face in her knees, her heavy breathing disturbed the dirt and leaves beneath her feet.  
"Whoa!" Claudette squeaks in alarm, interrupting Brittany, "What are you doing? You broke your leg! Let me check, now, please." Brittany panicked, pushing her legs away and staring at the alarmed woman before her.  
"I'm sorry!" She cries out, already moving her arms over her face. Perhaps that was why she had no scars on her face and scars all over her arms? Claudette quickly chases the thought away.  
"No, no," Claudette states, realizing Brittany's reaction immediately. "It's fine, it's fine, uncover your face, I'm not going to hit you. No one by this campfire will hit you." Brittany slowly retracted her hands.

Claudette, however, had to check her leg. She worried Brittany disrupted the bindings and she easily removed them, prepared to realign the stint and rewrap it as need be. Upon unwrapping the leg, she gasps in surprise. It's no longer bruised or stiff. She picks up the leg, forces Brittany to fold and unfold it at will. No wincing or whimpers come from the girl, she didn't seem surprised at all, actually. Claudette took a quick look at her arm, noticing that the gash was definitely still there. She couldn't help but notice that there were also burn marks on the edges of her skin where the gash connected. Claudette mentally scolded herself for not thoroughly checking the gash. Despite what she missed, she did wonder why the gash and scabbed scars were unhealed, but her broken leg had not. Perhaps it wasn't broken as she thought? Surely not, she inspected it thoroughly and Brittany couldn't move it at all.

"One moment," she says quietly, rummaging around a medical kit, "Your leg seems fine, but I want to stitch this up. What were you cut with here?" Claudette questions, recognizing the smooth lines, indicating a blade, but perhaps it had been heated?  
"A knife," was all Brittany said. She was looking away when she said it, looking her the wrapped gash. Claudette figured she was hiding something, but instead of pressing, she merely got back to work.

After the gash had been stitched and burned skin removed, Claudette gently rewrapped it. Once she finished, a mist comes out of the ground, wrapping around Claudette's, Meg's, Kate's, and David's legs. Brittany panics, grabbing Claudette's hand. Claudette smiles, patting Brittany's hand before the mist takes her away, leaving Brittany with the remaining people. She presses her back into the log, not sure if anyone else could actually be trusted. She wanted to believe Claudette on the 'no one will hit you here', but how can she trust them? How can she even trust Claudette? She was like a baby gazelle surrounded by hungry lions that wanted nothing to do with her.

"So," Ace starts, "How old are you?" Brittany eyes him, ever-so-wary.  
"Twenty-three." She tells him.  
"No way!" Ace exclaims. She looks maybe eighteen. "Are you sure?"  
"Yeah," she whispers, holding her knees like before. "It was one of the things he was so keen on keeping me informed of." Ace gave her look before looking at Dwight and anyone else who shared his concerned confusion. The quiet became awkward and Brittany outwardly shivered.  
"So..." Dwight begins, recognizing the awkward silence, "Where did you come from? Like what city?" Brittany peeks from behind her arms, noticing the one with glasses talking to her.  
"That's where," she tells him, "The city was always my city. I always called it my city. I was never informed of where, because they worried I'd escape and figure out where to go. As if knowing where I was would have made a difference." She shrugs her shoulders, burying her face again.  
"Surely you saw a name or two?" Ace asks, curious as well.  
"Yea," She mumbles, "Wendy's." Ace withheld a laugh.

"Ever go in?"  
"Once," she lifts her head with a smile. "She took me there. It was nice. Best food I ever had." She sighed with content. At least she wasn't burying her face this time.

Before more could be said, Meg shows up gasping and screaming out in agony. The sudden arrival spooks Brittany and causes her to jump to her feet with a yelp, trying to get away from the athletic girl. As soon as Meg comes to, she curses under her breath. Immediately, Dwight is at her side, making sure she is alright, but she dismissively and somewhat begrudgingly shoos him off with a wave of her hand. Once it's calmed, Brittany sits back down, but she no longer trusts the area near the campfire and has moved to lean against a tree right on the outskirts, her legs still embraced by the fire's light.

"Stupid Cannibal." Meg grumbles to herself. "He literally killed me by chainsawing me through the chest. I was torn half. I don't know why he felt the need to end my trial so quickly. I can still feel my ... _insides_." She shivers, completely forgetting Brittany is there, watching with wide and scared eyes. "Oh shit, I'm sorry, sweetie." She tells her. Brittany shivers, hiding her face in her knees.  
"Why me?" they hear her whisper. "I just wanted to die. Permanently. Not like that. Not like that." _/n^% li#e t^#t/_

Everyone watches the wisest of them, the oldest, and the longest living survivor, _if you can call it living_ , walk right over to her, kneeling on one knee, pressing his hand tentatively on her shoulder, watching as she immediately winces. She doesn't look up. She didn't care who it was. She just wanted this to be one horrendous dream. She hiccuped, she didn't even know she had started crying or when. Why would she be crying? _Sparing tears in a place like this?_ She thinks inwardly. She looked up at the fire, her eyes blurry with tears. Did she want to even wake up if it were a nightmare? The world she had left was just as nightmarish, if not more so. She looks at Bill, who has his cigarette out of his mouth, to the side in his free hand.

"Listen, girl," he says, voice gruff, "I know it's scary. I know you jumped off that building to die, but you're not dead. You're here. You're not alone anymore. We're all trapped here, together." She sniffles.  
"I want to trust you," she says gently, "But I know none of you." She uses her hand to emphasize this, "and I don't know what could and what won't happen to me. All I know is what I've been forced to learn. This place is no different. It's just another Hell for me to endure. Why? Because I'm cursed. Destined to fall."  
"Well," Bill stands, not in a hateful manner; "I'm here if you ever wanna talk. I learned that talking helps. Just remember that we're in this together. Having a friend or two can make this dreary place, less dreary." Brittany nods, hiding her face again.  
"I'll keep that in mind."


	2. entranced.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Some things are always better left unsaid. However, just as simply, the truth can set you free. How ironic that in both events, one thing, one phrase, a word of scrabble, could determine a long reign of events._
> 
> **So. Will you speak up or keep your mouth shut?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So I feel like I need to clarify a few things, at least bring light to certain potential concerns. The Underage tag is not because Kazan is many years older than Brittany. Even in that event, the bound souls change or shake things up. I'm sure I will mention ages, heights, and among other things throughout the story, but for that joyous bit of clarification, I'll tell you how old Kazan is in my story. He is 29. This makes him six years older than Brittany. This may not be entirely cannon with his backstory, however, it works with my story and makes it a little more, hmm, I guess acceptable.
> 
> Anywho, on with the story!

### Entranced

_"Am I doomed to live a life meant to be devastated? Will the end of the world be my own travesty? Or rather, because of it? Am I destined to be tortured, tattered, and forever broken, refusing the repair of a light or a voice? It's become clear to me that I'm a waste of space, forever alone to walk in a place that has no room for me. Death denied me, unwanting, life destroyed me, laughing, and now even Hell and Heaven have ignored my pleas, allowing me to drift into this newfound abyss. All I desire... is release." -Brittany_

**|| Third POV ||**

Whispers. They're strange things, really, often just the lowering of one's voice to be secretive or careful or quiet. Whispers can be anywhere and everywhere, and even loud to an extent. So loud, in fact, that one begins to wonder if they can even be considered whispers anymore. Yet whispers they remain. Sometimes no one hears them at all, except those who are attuned to them -- the crazy, the insane, the _unwanted_. How precious is it that the very unwanted can hear the whispers, voices, rather, in their heads. Perhaps it's because they've been alone for so long that they seek comfort in the whispers. It's believed that some whispers are just figments of the imagination, thoughts that are wild and loud and demand an answer. Thoughts that are demanding and commanding, asking and telling, doing nothing to ease the situation. Whispering thoughts can be among the many various voices one can hear within their own mind.

However, in the entity's realm, whispers are an extension of the Entity itself. Mindless whispers at first listen, mumbles, near-words, broken and misunderstood. Brittany can hear them and she doesn't wish to be able to. All of her life, she's been a friend to the whispers. Almost like the Entity, the whispers were an extension of her already fragile and broken mind. Unable to decipher their meaning, she finds herself covering her ears more often in hopes to silence them. She doesn't know what to believe; is it the consistent voice of her past, one that lulled her to sleep, embraced her somber mind and gave her release of dreams or nightmares, but never giving her too much to worry or falter. Or. Is it the vague and the unknown that the others refer to as the Entity. A vile being seeking to interrupt her thoughts and forcing her into a turmoil that she's long forgotten and avoided. See, Brittany never faced the problem head-on. She made her problems disappear by pretending they weren't real. Facing them meant facing herself, and she didn't want to delve into her mind again. Once was enough and it proved to hold certain... traits that she would rather ignore and forget. Whispers will be taken as they come. How they influence will be a factor in due time. Unlike the whispers, however, time is an irrelevant factor within this realm. There is no day and night cycle. Even the fog is inconsistent, weather is sparse, and the local creatures are far and few between -- consisting of just the crows -- who never caw to signify the changing time. Granted time is irrelevant, humanity can't live without some form of restriction, limit, or something to understand the world by. Instead of reading time through a changing of the sun and moon, time is understood by a click made by one of the scavenged clocks within the realm. Claudette had stumbled upon it during one of her explorations, and she eagerly brought it back. The group determined that they would start a new day, a new year, and a new month all on that first day. Thus, time was understood and they'd write the month and year, a sorrowful thing to do for those who had been there for so long. Years in fact.

The evening, based upon their clock, seemed relatively peaceful and calm. The Entity hadn't taken anyone into a trial and has left Brittany to herself for the last few hours, presumably allowing her time to adjust. Strange, many figured, considering the first trial is often also the first time a survivor will arrive at the Fog. Even if that wasn't the case, they were often materialized by the campfire, which has been referred to as the Light of Hope by Baker. Why? Everyone assumed it was due to its ever alight flame and that survivors will always be brought to it after a trial or after their kidnapping from their worlds. Brittany's case had a few speculating and worried. What if there were others like her, roaming around in the realm, doomed to happen upon a killer? They knew they couldn't die if found by a killer, but some killers, when not restrained by a trial, find themself overjoyed to take advantage of a wondering survivor. Others worried there was something adrift with Brittany. Why was she different? Was she the future? The past? Some couldn't find themself to trust her. While others found themselves desperately wanting to help ease her transition into this... this place.

"Hey, Brittany," Ace calls, shuffling a deck of cards, "Ever play cards? Poker?" Brittany glances at him. She hasn't warmed up to anyone but Claudette, and even then it was only because the gentle lady helped her with her wounds.  
"No," Brittany tells him, quietly. He smiles, happy to be a teacher once again.  
"Well, I can teach you? If you want to play." She contemplates the cards for a moment, debating yet unsure.  
"Uhm," She starts, "I don't know. I'd have no idea what I'd be doing." She admits. He chuckles warmly.  
"You think David knew what he was doing before he and I started playing?"  
"Hey!" David whines. "You make me sound helpless." David crosses his arms, still sitting on his log, where he'd been, talking to Nea at the time.  
"Look, I know a few beginner games, like Rummy, and I can teach you what each card means." Ace continues, ignoring David. Brittany presses into the tree for a moment, but reluctantly, she stands. _/no fear/_

Ace hands her a hand of seven cards. He pokes the top of them, silently asking for them and she obliges, showing them to him. He points at each one. _/broken, broken, broken, you're broken/_ She twitches her hand, annoyed, but still, she listens to Ace. He tells her that the red heart cards are called hearts suit, the red diamonds cards are diamonds, the black spade-looking cards are spades, and the black club cards are also referred to as clubs. He goes on to explain how each suit has to match. She even gives an example of her hand; she has three clubs, one spade, one diamond, and two hearts. Her hearts were seven and eight, thus she could work with those more effectively. Although she had more clubs, her clubs were all over the place; an ace, five, and a ten. He takes her hand back and shuffles them all back and passes them out again. This time he explains the numerical order of the cards, thankful that she knew how to count and read. As he taught her, David watched, at an arm's reach of course, afraid to spook her. She learned fast, and by the time she had everything understood, they were already playing a real game of Rummy. _/don't hesitate, broken, don't/_

"Three of a kind!" She beamed, setting down three four's. "Right?" She asks for the fifth time. Ace laughs.  
"Right, kiddo! But you did kill the four's." He tells her, pointing at her three four's.  
"Killed them?" She stares at him then the cards, "I didn't mean to kill them." Ace waves his hand.  
"No, no, I mean now they're useless. You can't do 2, 3, 4 or 4, 5, 6. It ultimately shaves off cards for your opponent. Strategically, it's a good thing. If I have a four in my hand, I can't play it in numerical order. I have to place it down on your fours. It would only play on those." He explains.  
"Oh," she hums, holding her cards. "Gotcha." _/kill them all/_ She shakes her head and continues the game. Of course, it doesn't go unnoticed by Ace.  
"You alright?" Ace asks, "You've been doing that a lot." She looks at him, accidentally knocking strands of hair loose from behind her ears, which now hung over her eyes. She huffed, hoping to shoo them from her face.  
"Yea," she lies. "I'm fine." She looks back at her cards. _/he's here/_ She pauses, scanning the trees around her. She knew all too well what that meant. Already, anxiety began filling her soul.  
"You sure, you're okay?" Ace asks, drawing her attention back. She inwardly groans.  
"Yes," she repeats, trying to ignore what she's hearing. Ace shrugs, not believing her at all.  
"Alright then, kiddo." _/he's here, he's here, he's here/_ **Panic.**

She stood steadfast, dropping the cards in her haste. Ace stands, too, not entirely sure what to do or what to expect. The cards have littered the ground, like fallen leaves. Her sudden movement gains the attention of the others. Everyone, including Bill, is looking towards her. The commotion has some even standing in defensive postures. Brittany is already looking around frantically, in her head, the whispers scream at her. _/he's here, he's here, he's here/_ Soon, her eyes stumble upon the he, her voices are warning her of. He's leaning against a tree, his blade tucked away in his belt buckle like he always had it. A smile adorned his face, no, not a smile, a smug smirk. He was tutting at her, as though she was a child and had just done something naughty. From head to toe, he was dressed in his leather. His jacket barely passed down his hips. The pants were a bit snug to his form. His hair had always been messy, a dark and thick brown that could appear black from afar. His face was scarred -- one long claw-shaped one, going down over his eye and towards his bottom jaw.

 _"Oh Angel."_ he coos. She's unaware that no one else can hear or see him. _"What have you gotten yourself into?"_ he asks, standing straight now, no longer leaning against the tree. He pulls out his knife and stalks towards her slowly, enjoying how she was frozen in place, watching his every movement.  
"Stay away." She demands, her voice wavering.  
"Brittany --" David tries, but the _he_ interrupts, nonchalantly. Brittany could hear nothing but the light thuds of _his_ steps, the crackle of an illusion, and her own beating heart.  
_"What if I don't want to, Angel?"_ He whispers, his breath making her body shiver, remembering, recognizing... _He'll hurt us again_.  
"Stop it." She tries, in her eyes the desire to bolt is overwhelming. Someone holds her, noticing it, but she's not sure who. She fights in their grasp, raking her nails against them in hopes to escape. _They want him to hurt us!_  
_"Angel, don't you miss me?"_ he asks her, emphasizing with his hands, one of which trailed down her side. _My, you have filled out, my sweet Angel._  
"No!" She practically growls, recoiling, able to move away from him despite the one holding her -- Jeff. "I escaped you! I **killed** you!" She screams. Her words have the others whispering amongst themselves.  
_"Do I look dead?"_ he asks, standing right in front of her, towering over her, a hand on her shoulder. A grimace adorned her face as she held his gaze.  
"You _are_ dead!" She closes her eyes, hoping to prove it somehow, convince herself. Maybe she's dreaming again. Another horrendous nightmare, maybe, hopefully.  
_"Don't close those pretty orbs, Angel. You know how much I love looking into your eyes. Especially when we **danced**. Remember when we danced?"_ He retorts, slicing into that bit of hope she had just barely scavenged.  
"You. are. dead." She hisses, tears blurring her vision as those memories collided in her being.  
_"Weren't you dead, too?"_ He asks, making her flash her blue orbs directly back at him. He was right. She was supposed to be dead, yet here she is. _"Hello, Angel,"_ he coos again, splashing salt into the wound, grazing the knife over her body gently, not leaving any blood, though Brittany was sure she felt the blood trickling down her body. _"There's those beautiful eyes of yours." /kill-- KILL HIM/_

Brittany freezes, her heart practically stops in her chest. She's falling to her knees, however, Jeff helps her lay down on the ground, dirt embracing her face; he didn't want her to injure her head on a log. Bill has moved next to them, sighing aloud noisily. Why? Perhaps he felt this was a bit overboard? Maybe he was annoyed? Maybe there was something he knew? He leans down, checks her eyes, the pupils are dilated. He thinks to himself, he knows what's going on. At least, he believes he knows what is going on. This happens when the Entity is trying to intervene. It also rarely happens to the survivors when they are about to be sent to a trial. Eventually, her pupils return to normal. They watch as she slowly returns to them, her body trembling as her lungs force air into her. She gasps and starts to throw her hands wildly, still seeing his eyes and face before her own. He's trying to kiss her. She rakes her nails down his face, shocked to see her hand go right through him. She quickly retracts her hand and screams, covering her face in the process.

"It's not real!" She cries out, "It's not real!"  
"Calm down, Brittany," Bill calls out to her, grabbing her hands and forcing her off of the ground, making her half stand and half sit. The sensation causes her to panic more, she isn't sure what is and what isn't real anymore and she fights to escape in her blind panic.  
"You're supposed to be dead! He is dead...! No, wait, he isn't real. Am I real? WHAT'S GOING ON!" She babbles outwardly, still trying to make sense of what is going on.  
"Brittany!" Bill exclaims, his voice stern. It's enough to snap her out of her stupor and she stares at him, recognizing him as Bill and no other. Tears quickly fall down her face.  
"What is happening to me?" She cries at him.  
"Easy there, girly," Bill says, softening his tone. "You're safe. I promise you are safe."  
"I saw, I saw him." She tells him, not sure what else to really say. Everyone watches in shock as Bill holds her in a strong and caring embrace -- one a father gives his own daughter.  
"He's gone," he tells her. "No. He's not. I'm here, I died, but here I am. He is, too. There's no way he can escape death. Evil always, always prevails!" "So does the good," he whispers to her, still holding her.

Suddenly, the mist comes. It arrives as a bad omen does before the locust storm swarms. Everyone dreads the mist as it snakes its way up their legs and engulfs them like a snake does its prey. Now, it has come for Brittany. That moment of reprieve taken away as instantly as it was gained. It crawls up her legs and causes her to stare in both shock and awe. It's gentle caress as it finds its way up her body makes her wonder if it really was that bad, placing her in a sort of trance, making her relax involuntarily. Bill releases her and everyone watches as she's enveloped, followed by Dwight, Nea, and Jeff. Each of the other three gives a look of understanding to one another. They know she will be arriving unsure and whoever finds her first, needs to explain the situation. 

She feels like she's falling and throws her arms out in an attempt to stop her fall, only to find that she stands in a whole new world, completely balanced. She realizes that she simply materialized here. She takes in her surroundings as soon as she's come to. Everything that happened just prior to the trial is now a whisked away memory, faded and practically forgotten. One of the many perks of trials -- honing your senses to do your task. The trees are so tall, Brittany notices, they were towering and reaching up into the sky at a height that their tops are practically out of view. All around her, the world seemed gloomy, perhaps like some horrible tragedy had occurred and took a precious life. She sees a small cabin in the center from where she stands, thinking it was adorable and homey in an odd not-so-gloomy kind of way. A strange beacon of comfort in this nightmarish landscape. She takes a step forward, towards the cabin, only for someone to grab her arm and pull her behind a large pile of logs. Gasping in shock at the suddenness, she turns to see who it was. Immediately recognizing Nea, she takes in a sharp breath to try calming her racing heart.

"Sorry, but you can't just stand out in the open like that." Brittany nods. "Okay, now, I found you first. The plan is to help you understand what the goal is. We," she points between Brittany and herself, "are the survivors. We have to endure and try to escape." Brittany stares nearly blankly.  
"How?" Nea holds a finger up to her, in a hushed manner.

They both hear it. It's hard to miss, the beautiful chorus of a gentlewoman humming aloud. The lullaby fills the atmosphere immediately, and briefly, Brittany can remember her own mother humming to her when she was so small. The memory came and went, leaving the girl with tears in her eyes. Wiping them away frantically, Nea's attention is drawn back to her, after the humming faded off into the distance, oblivious to Brittany's sudden melancholy.

"Okay, that was the Huntress. She's a killer with a projectile."  
"She's a killer?" Brittany whispers surprised at how quiet her voice is. "She sounded so lovely."  
"She _is_ a killer," Nea tells her with more force. "Listen, her projectiles, her hunting hatchets, can be thrown from anywhere she stands. Almost like she has a bloody homing beacon on our locations at all times." Nea says this with a look of annoyance on her face.  
"Okay, so she throws hatchets," Brittany states, pulling Nea out of her grimace. Nea nods.  
"Yes. Now, she's the oppressive force. We need to complete five out of the seven known generators in this trial in order to activate the two exit gates."

The humming comes again, snapping the two from their somewhat quiet conversation. As the humming increases in volume, both hearts within their chests begin to rapidly accelerate, the sensation making Brittany panic. Her panic stemming from an outside cause -- one only she is aware of. Nea, on the other hand, is unable to hold her still. Brittany bolts in an attempt to escape the heartbeat, fearful of the pounding organ in her chest. Nea groans, not surprised at this, everyone runs on instinct the first time. As Brittany bounds away like a frightened deer, Nea hopes she can distract the Huntress, only to find herself staring agape as the woman with the bunny mask walks right by her, ignoring her completely. Nea curses to herself, hoping to veer the tall killer away, chasing after. Meanwhile, Brittany still hasn't gotten her heart to calm, the organ pounding ferociously within her chest -- almost as if it dares to tear through her body.

"What is going on?" She whisper-shouts to herself.

Tripping on yet another root, Brittany falls forward, landing with a thud. Subsequently, she hits her head against a wall with a clang. She looks up immediately, the quick movement made her head spin. Apparently, she fell right near a large box-like shack. An entryway led in and there, she could see a blue and red pallet standing tall. She looked around briefly, her heart still increasing, but in addition to that noise, she hears the humming again. She turns around all the way -- after having landed in an awkward position -- her back had faced upward, one hand pressed against the wall and the other against the ground --, holding her head in her hands, hoping to ease the throbbing sensation. At her feet on the ground, she sees two very large feet staring back at her. Carefully and slowly, she looks up and sees a tall woman before her, wearing a bunny's mask. She doesn't back away in fear -- that humming was a trance, and for some reason, the mask came off as gentle and innocent.

The woman looked down at Brittany in curiosity. The girl hadn't taken off at a run, and in addition, she had managed to injure herself as well. The Huntress kneels down, tilting her head to the side. Brittany stares at her, completely entranced by the lullaby she was singing. The Huntress didn't even notice Nea crouching around behind one of the debris behind her, too entranced by this strange survivor before her. Brittany laid her hand to her side, the throbbing in her head had eased off now. She wanted to try and stand, but she did notice Nea, and Nea shook her head no, reading what Brittany was going to do. Brittany wasn't sure why, however. She, for once, since she's gotten to this realm, hasn't felt threatened by this Huntress. If the woman wanted to hurt her, she would have already, right? Again, her attention is pulled away, the humming so beautiful and encapturing.

"So pretty," Brittany whispers, closing her eyes as her mind is swarmed with peace. The Huntress recognizes the language, albeit roughly, she understands the word pretty above all else. She remembered saying it often to Sally and Sally to her.  
"Hey!" Nea shouts, "Get away from her!" She throws a literal rock at the Huntress, who screams out and turns around quickly.  
"Nea!" Brittany exclaims, shocked by Nea's behavior. The Huntress throws a hatchet right at Nea, abruptly interrupting Brittany, the projectile hits Nea square in the shoulder. The girl falls to her knees with a shout of pain. "Oh no!" Brittany stands up, climbing on her own knee as she gains her footing, trying to make her way over to Nea. The Huntress ignores her futile attempts and focuses on Nea.  
"Run!" Nea demands Brittany, but instead, she only watches in horror as the Huntress comes closer to her, the only promise being death.  
"Nea!"

The Huntress was quick and merciless, the whole scenario occurred in one fell swoop of the ax. She threw her ax downward, the blade embedded right in Nea's frontal lobe -- some careless blood splatters around her face. Nea limply tries to fight, her hand barely moving above her head. The Huntress grunts as she removes the ax from Nea's head, her body falling with a small thud. In a rage, the woman's humming stops completely as she screeches with each attack into Nea's lifeless body. Once, twice, and then finally she stops, the ax's blade still in Nea's chest. After a moment, she begins humming again, as though nothing horrible had just happened. She removes her ax, a sickening wet sound fills the air as the flesh releases the blade. She stands still for a moment before she turns her head back towards Brittany.

Brittany immediately presses her back into the shack's wall, unsure and afraid of the Huntress's intentions. The said killer has walked up to her, petting Brittany's cheek for a moment. The girl was so tiny, like a child. At this thought, the Huntress assumed she was. A distinct instinct filled her core as she sought to protect her unlike when she had failed so many others. The Entity bellows, shaking the Huntress's very mind, demanding her to kill Brittany instead. With a heavy and pitiful sigh, her humming stops as she raises the ax above her head, preparing the strike. Brittany's eyes widen in horror, but she can't move. She is frozen in place by fear and anticipation. Someone tackles her to the ground, the ax driven into the shack's wall instead in the same instant. The Huntress screeches in anger.

"Okay, I don't know what you have been up to, but--" He pauses, his eyes drifting over to Nea's limp body. He bites his tongue and instead sighs, quickly dragging Brittany to her feet. "I'm sorry," he tells her, pulling her into a run, away from the Huntress, who has resumed her humming. The humming forced and shaky.  
"I couldn't move," Brittany confesses as they run. Jeff merely shakes his head.  
"Happens to the best of us," he tells her. "Especially our first time." He continues, leading her farther away, and keeping both of them low as they try to escape the Huntress.

Eventually, the humming has subsided. Jeff pulls Brittany towards a generator. He points at the machine and then, with his own hands, he begins connecting wires in their appropriate sockets. He does it with several other mechanical parts of the machine, before ultimately having Brittany continue. Once he feels she's adept enough to do it alone, he gives her a pat on her shoulder and leaves to find Dwight or another generator to work on. Feng Min always told them to be efficient. Working in numbers was always the worst option. However, as soon as he disappears, Brittany never felt so vulnerable. Don't get her wrong, she knows vulnerability and has always felt it, but this kind of vulnerability hits her like a dagger piercing her heart. The world around her seemed so quiet.

As if on cue, a masculine scream takes to the sky, disturbing crows around its origin. Brittany yelps, messing up a connection of wiring, causing the machine to explode in her face. Preemptively, she bounds away, racing down the hill Jeff just led her upon. She finds herself getting closer and closer to the scream's location. The image of Nea being brutalized taunted her memories, daring to blame her in an instant. Something her mind didn't want to bear. _/escape, die, live, esc--/_ With a quick and necessary shake of her head, she finds herself practically colliding into someone. He grunts in pain and Brittany withholds a small scream of shock. Jeff was impaled on a hook, said hook pierced through his shoulder. Without much trouble, much to Jeff's surprise, she lifts him off of it.

"Good job," he says weakly. Blood has eagerly dripped freely from the wound. "Now," he pauses, hoping her attention is on him. It is. "I need you," he hands her a gauze, "to wrap this around the wound."  
"Will this even be enough?" She asks, pointedly. He sighs, shaking his head.  
"It'll have to do." Begrudgingly, she wraps his shoulder with it as gently as she possibly can. "How far did you get the generator done?" He breaks the silence. She nearly flinches.  
"I don't know," she tells him, ashamed.  
"How many knobs were activated?"  
"Three," she tells him after counting them on her fingers. He sighs with relief.  
"Good. Dwight is hopefully --"

The sound of fire, screams, and death fill the air. Brittany turns her head before Jeff can stop her and at the sight, she, too screams. In the sky, claws of ash have in their clutches, the body, now dust, of who can only be Dwight. His soul, presumably, is pulled into the sky without hesitation. Brittany backs up as if trying to get away from the sight. Jeff catches her before she can trip and she immediately buries her face into his chest. _/embrace this death/_ Covering her eyes, she hoped it'd disappear. _/embrace it!/_ She shook her head fiercely.

"It's awful, I know, but listen," Jeff's large hands cup her small face, bringing her gaze up to his own, "We can still get out, okay?" She tries to look back as if the omen of the Huntress was standing right behind them, Jeff quickly forces her face back. "I got you," He tells her, smiling. "I... Okay." She caves, nodding slowly.

The two swiftly and silently trail through the trial, which is apparently called The Mother's Dwelling. Brittany asked why but got no answer, because Jeff didn't know much more about the place than she did. They finish a generator together -- the one she had started, despite Feng Min's warning -- when the humming returns. Brittany feels her heart beating as it had before, but she doesn't panic. Instead, she feels a flurry of courage taking over. Taking in a deep breath, she immediately runs. Jeff calls out to her, but she ignores him, with purpose. She finds the Huntress staring back at her through those eyeslits of the bunny's mask, head tilted, the mask appearing so gentle and innocent, even still, even after the brutal killing of Nea.

"You don't have to hurt people," she tells her, in an attempt to derail the anguish. What drove her to speak to this woman? Even Brittany had no answer.

She isn't aware that Jeff has followed her. He frowns at the scene, remembering doing the same thing with a young adult. The Huntress watches her curiously, the Entity, too, intrigued by the scene.

"Death isn't the answer," she continues, not sure if she should move or not. The sudden movement could entice a chase.  
_**"It isn't?"**_ Brittany freezes and the Huntress notices it. Brittany isn't aware, but the Huntress hears it, too. _**"Did you not kill them like she did that survivor?"**_ it asks her.  
"Death isn't the answer!" She reiterates, ignoring the voice. The Huntress takes a step towards her now.

Jeff has already left, working on the, he hopes, the last generator. Neither had heard any dings from earlier on, so he assumed only a few were done if that. Brittany watches in anticipation as the Huntress has walked to her, closing the distance between them. The Huntress has taken her hand and brushed a bit of hair from Brittany's face. The blonde locks flowing effortlessly behind her. The Huntress then drops her hand and sighs.

"Pretty." She whispers, before hacking Brittany down, trying her best to ignore the scream of agony. The scream was like a blade, one the Huntress will come to learn, Brittany has endured as well.

Jeff freezes in place at the generator -- one knob activated... barely. A sense of guilt and shame fills him. Brittany falls to the ground, grasping her severed arm in her, more-or-less, fine hand. The Huntress withholds a cry of agony as she gently picks Brittany up and throws her over her shoulder. With a grunt, Brittany found herself trying to ease the transition with her hand. The movement sent a whimper through her body, making her vibrate in the Huntress's hold. She appears quick and agitated, as she quickly slams Brittany onto the hook.

The Entity doesn't hesitate, apparently pleased she was finally there. It greedily impales her, after a few moments of her struggling, dragging her into the sky as well. It offered her no chance of being rescued. Brittany watches as her body disintegrates in front of the bunny-masked lady. All she hears as she's dragged away is the loving hum of the gentle lullaby.

"So pretty," she whispers.


	3. adrift.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The abyss. A dark space of vast emptiness -- the bottom nonexistent as if the abyss goes down forever and ever. It reaches upwards with black claws, claws that wish to grasp around a soul and plunge it into the infinite darkness._
> 
>   
> **Even I sometimes desire the abyss.**

### Adrift

_"There's a terror in the dark! Listen! You can't, it's silent. Look! You can't, you're blinded. Find it! But wait, you cannot move. Like a naive mouse getting caught in a trap, losing the ability to breathe as the trap itself presses down on your windpipes, slowly forcing you to succumb to the sweet escape of death. Ah, wee lamb, you are. I savor this struggle. I savor how precious you are, even now, a mess of blood, of meat, of flesh. Precious. Ironic, no? Precious things are often innocent things. Like a baby lion or a small child. Pity that the new male lion kills the baby lion and the small child grows up to only kill themself later. No precious thing is safe. Ironically, the precious ones are weak. Why do I tell you this? You're just meat after all. You will never understand." -Shiva_

**||Third POV||**

Why do humans seek out pain? Pain is a negative force, an oppressive one, that should make one veer off into a different direction. However, humans seem to race towards it. They're masochists in their own right, designed to find what hurts them the most. Granted, when there is pain, there is something hidden, precious, wanted, _desired_. How humans haven't gone extinct would be a surprise if they weren't as much a masochist as they are resilient. Ironic, isn't it? Ironic that humans are resilient masochists. Suppose they would have to be. The Entity thrives on this pain-seeking drive. It is why the game is designed the way it is. Hope, freedom, promise, all things that are denied once death or escape are actually obtained. The Entity is a vile being, indeed, sentient even. Many believe its a beast without thought or reason, a nightmare in the dark, holding the survivors' hostage, waiting to devour them like a wolf cornering its prey. However, it is more than that -- a beast, yes, but a beast with purpose, with hunger. _Always hungry._ This Entity is clever and intuitive. It never makes a mistake. At least, that's how the survivors think. They only ever see the beast at its strongest -- devouring their soul, ripping off their flesh, turning their blood into dust, and ultimately taking a sliver of their soul every time.

Even if they escape and return to the campfire, the emotion they feel is fed upon. When one escapes, they are filled with excitement, an emotion that tastes wild and delightful, but never as good as the sliver of the soul that the Entity feeds off of after a sacrifice. That soul tinged with despair, fear, and _pain_. Maybe this is why the Entity refused Brittany and Dwight an attempt to escape? It had been too merciful by allowing them a few hours reprieve, so maybe it's cashed in? Whatever the Entity's reason is, the sensation of dying is overwhelmed with a feeling of peace as Brittany materializes by the campfire for once. She comes to with a quiet gasp as air forces its way into her nostrils. The fire's light immediately embraces her form, glistening off of the scars. Everyone looks at her as she sits up slowly. She couldn't get the soothing hum out of her head. It hung onto her very soul, offering her serenity. She felt nothing but serenity -- despair, fear, pain, all other emotions were masked by her moment of peace.

"Didn't make it." Meg assumes, stretching her arms over her head with a yawn. Brittany nods.  
"Yea, I died." She huffs, taking in a breath as she hugged herself with a shiver. She wasn't cold, it was because of the sensation of being impaled multiple times or perhaps because she had said 'I died' so nonchalantly.  
"First time always sucks." Meg continues, taking this moment to move over closer to Britany. "You handled it pretty well, though. Who did y'all go against?"  
"Huntress." Nea interrupts. She was tossing small twigs right into the fire, standing. Meg glances over and frowns.  
"Let me guess --"  
"Yep," Nea answers her unasked question. "She killed me." At this, Brittany looks down quietly. She felt bad for Nea's death. She felt like it had been her fault. Technically, it was.  
"Shouldn't have doodled that mustache on her kitty mask." Meg scoffs playfully, hoping to lighten the mood. Nea chuckles.  
"Oh, I regret nothing." Brittany looks up and tilts her head.  
"How did you manage to do that?" Nea and Meg both look at her, but Bill interrupts both of them.  
"They went out too far into the Fog. They stumbled upon her domain."  
"The killers are out there?" Brittany stares in bewilderment. Of course, they would be here, too. She felt silly for not considering the killers were sentient, too, and would also have a place to reside.  
"Yes." Meg yawns again. "One of the reasons why we wanted to get you back here. Killers aren't restrained out there and some are pretty sick in the head."  
"Especially Freddy." One of the quieter survivors add. Brittany glances at him, tilting her head.  
"Claudette goes out all the time, she's out there right now with Feng Min. Why--" Brittany begins, but Bill interrupts her.  
"Claudette has been here for a very long time. She has a map in her head. She knows where the barrier is in all directions. She goes out because she has to."  
"Why, though? It's dangerous --" Bill smiles gently.  
"It is, but Claudette takes it upon herself to gather supplies. One doesn't argue with her, anyhow." "But why," Brittany presses, "We don't eat, we don't drink. We don't even need to breathe! Why risk running into a killer, if we're fine?" _if this can even be considered fine,_ she thinks to herself. "She gathers supplies for us to take into the trials. She's found multiple medical herbs, roots, and other things we've used as offerings," Nea tells her, emphasizing her words with her hands. "Dangerous, yes. She knows the risk, but if she dies, she's forced back here. She takes that chance to help us out." "Well," Brittany pauses with a sigh. What more can she say?

Suddenly, all attention is drawn to a startled gasp. Jeff's body materializes by the campfire, and he's immediately coughing as his body inhales the stale air. Brittany watches in wonder and fear. Had her sacrifice been made for nothing? Was Jeff caught in the crossfire and killed? Was he found and brutally murdered as Nea had been? She gulps, looking down. She only got in their way. The whole trial, they had to stop whatever they were doing and pick up her slack -- even then they all likely got killed because of it. She got Nea killed, Dwight had no chance, and it's likely she wasn't able to get Jeff out. Small grunts leave Jeff as he stands up. He's tall, perhaps among one of the tallest in the realm, survivor wise, and he ambles over to sit by Brittany. He places his arm over her shoulder, pulling her next to him. She inwardly flinched, her whole body went stiff. This was an act of kindness, but she couldn't trust it. Jeff noticed her discomfort and removed his arm, maintaining a smile. Finally, Brittany met his gaze and noticed to smile. In comparison, Jeff could see her shame and guilt He chuckled, giving her a thumbs up.

"I got out, missy." He tells her. Sudden relief swarms her, she couldn't help but let out a shaky sigh.  
"At least one of you did. I was a huge hindrance to the team." She says solemnly, but a small smile graced her lips. She didn't fail everyone. A sudden scoff grabs their attention.  
"You expected to be Obi-Wan Kanobi in your first match?" Nea shakes her head as she says this. "No one is perfect. What you did, we all did. It's okay to be afraid." Nea turns her head to face Brittany, their gazes meet.  
"You died because of me, though," Brittany tells her. "We both know that."  
"So?" Nea counters, shrugging, "We will always die or we will always escape. Neither will end with us going home. I'm perfectly fine with taking the blade for you or anyone else here." Brittany breaks eye contact, allowing her vision to blur.  
"I need to get better." She says aloud to herself. Nea chuckles.  
"You do. We all had to. The difference between us and you, however, is that you got help. Hell, I know I would have loved the advice when I first got here. I didn't get it, Claudie didn't get it -- Feng, Bill -- most of us came here fresh and confused. So, we happily teach others like Jeff, like Jane, like you." Nea points at each one she called upon, pointing at Brittany with a hard gaze -- one that was firm not heated.

Silence. In nature, silence signifies a hunter. The hunter, the predator, the _beast_ that is hungry. Silence is usually unwelcomed because it means trouble, it means despair. However, there are times when silence is a blessing, a cure to all of the noise that can be deafening. Now, it fills the camp as every one allows Nea's words to sink in. Her words weren't hateful. They didn't pierce the soul or the heart, slashing slivers of a person. No, they were gentle and serene. Genuine. Nea had every intent on helping Brittany out. In consequence, the behavior was new and Brittany's thoughts raced in confusion and wonder. She didn't know what she was feeling. Sure, she knew emotion, she knew laughter, love. These things didn't go forgotten, but they did fade after time went by, buried by the feelings that comprise hate, pain, fear, and dismay. Now, she is feeling an emotion that belongs with love and laughter, however, it wasn't quite either. Did it feel a little like... safe? Trustworthy? She couldn't quite put her finger on it. Frankly, she didn't know if she could trust it.

See, her whole life had been a wrecking ball smashing into a building that no one cared for anymore. She had a strong foundation, not falling easily, but her walls crumbled, her roof caved in, and her windows were all shattered. She could stand in her own ruin, but she would fall if a storm came by. Life did this to her, and she found that she could only ever trust herself -- herself being suspicious at times too. Why? Because she seemed to always put herself in bad positions, allowing herself to get hurt. She remembered him calling her a masochist. A girl, a lady, a woman -- it was different as she grew up -- who desired to get hurt. Of course, the pain always came after she stood up for herself. Her parents always told her she was strong and never back down from a fight. She shutters. It was one of his favorite things about her. He had said it on so many occasions, whispering into her ears as lovers do... Only he wasn't her lover. Each night, she remembered him telling her how much he loved her, but those same nights, she would shout how much she hated him. She hadn't heard the others ease into their own conversation as her mind swarmed with thoughts.

It makes sense that she would feel herself drift into a frenzy. Her parents were the only ones to show her love and care and they were killed. Any other person that showed her similar emotions would turn around and stab her in the back. Did she fear these people would get killed? That's unlikely because they can't die here in this place. Tortured, yes, but not killed. No, she was afraid of being betrayed again. _/like he did.../_ Like he did... Frowning, she found herself staring at a black leaf, placed perfectly between her feet. She picked it up, using her free hand to trace its blackened veins. They may not betray her, but her heart won't allow her to believe that they won't. She gave too many people the benefit of the doubt in the past. Granted, they _could_ be like her mother and father, caring, loving, and willing to protect her. However, unfortunately, the soul turns to ice when time wears on. For Brittany, she began to resent her parents, even blamed them for her misfortunate life. She hated herself for blaming them, but after days became weeks and weeks became months... months became years, she found herself growing colder. They died and left her alone. Left her alone with the one who should have been her friend. She knew or she hoped they died protecting her, but she couldn't help but find herself believing they were weak. Weak like she was, is, likely will always be. She didn't even notice that she had crushed the leaf in her hand, particles fell between her fingers.

"Brittany?" Brittany jumped. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you... I just wanted to see if you were okay." It was Meg. She kneeled over a little, so she could look into Brittany's eyes. Brittany didn't meet her gaze, however. She was looking at the tattered leaf at her feet, her mind distant -- far away, lost.  
"Am I okay?" She repeats the question to herself. "I don't know." She shrugs. Meg frowned.  
"Okay..." Meg states carefully, standing straight, preparing to leave, "if you need anyone to talk to, my tent is always open." After, Meg leaves, glancing back at Brittany, hoping it was an obvious invite for Brittany to follow. Meg went ignored, however.

In truth, Brittany is far from okay. She hadn't been okay in over a decade. Life didn't give her relief or time off from the torture. She had to do it herself. She had to fight, tooth and nail, to get out of that Hell. It costed her so much, but she managed to get out. How? She didn't really remember. Memories of that day came in parts. Each one, however, was a bloody image. So bloody and disturbing in fact, that she had to ignore those memories. People were out to take and break and only did things for themself. _I can't trust them..._ She hugs herself, her thoughts whispering into her head. With a quiet sniffle, she wished for a moment that she could be normal. Normal enough to allow people near her heart. Normal, however, she wasn't. One can't be normal when your arms, your legs, chest, stomach, back, every part of your body but your neck and face, are covered in scars. Scars that take on so many different shapes. At first glance, one might think she was a cutter, however, upon inspection, it is evident that she is a tortured victim. Brittany couldn't help but look down at her legs, tracing over the scars on them. She traced the longest one. The same one that Claudette had traced upon their first meeting.

**_Flashback_ **  
_"You've been bad again." He tells her, scoffing. She was bound on her bed. The bed she would be tied to every evening after being flaunted like a trophy throughout the day. "I told you to behave. Why did you go and bite him, Angel? A good customer, too. Why Angel, why? Tell me?"  
"Fuck. you." She hissed, repeating the word she heard from the same man she bit.  
"Oh, my Angel's vocabulary has expanded! Such vulgar language from such a pretty little girl." She went stiff when he sat on the edge of the bed, tracing his knife down her stomach -- she had no clothes on, like every night. He didn't like ruining the fabrics she wore. "Look at how well behaved you are for me now. Why aren't you like this all of the time? You're perfect, Angel. Now, though. Well, now, you have to be punished."  
"I hate you." She seethes, feeling the tears brimming at the corners of her eyes.  
"I love you, too, Angel." He tuts, pressing the blade into her thigh, waiting for it to shred the flesh easily, before sliding the blade down. The pain was intense, but she grinded her teeth, not daring to cry again. Her father would want her to be strong. He'd want her to be strong... Don't cry. Never cry... "I've always loved your blood, Angel." He pushed his finger into the wound. She could feel him tug and poke and prod at her muscles.  
"Stop it!" She said, having trouble keeping her strength.  
"I apologize, Angel." He removes his finger, smiling at her. She watches him stand up. He unbuckles his belt -- the same belt that usually held up his pants and his knife -- before pushing his hand back into the new wound. "I simply can't let you go unpunished."  
"Please..." she pleads, her voice so quiet.  
"Oh, an angel that begs." He chuckles, maniacally. "I love it when you beg. You'll be begging for more. You end up begging every night."  
"Don't, not..."  
"Shhhh, shh, hush now." He presses his free finger to her lips, pulling his other hand, now coated in red iron, placing this hand on his erect member, coating the dick with her blood. Mustering up all she had left, she spat him. Shaking with anticipation and anger. "You're fun." He leans down, his lips barely grazing her ear, "You're my favorite angel." Satisfied with his work, he climbs onto the bed, smiling devilishly at her attempts to squirm. "Be still. I don't want to make a mess." He chuckles. "..." No words left her as she slowlly succumbed to the blood loss. She felt faint, and prayed death would wake her. Unfortunately, her dampened moans kept her conscious enough.  
_ **_End_**

"Brittany?" Nea asks, gently nudging Brittany's shoulder. Brittany screeched, slinging her arm outward, narrowly missing Nea. "Whoa! Whoa! Brittany! Calm down!" Nea shouts. So much for the calm atmosphere.  
"Don't you dare touch me again!" She screeched, shoving Nea away from her. "You lied! You lied! You lied!"  
"No one lied!" Someone else shouts.  
"Liars!" She snarls, jumping onto one of the logs, glaring at all of them. "You want to hurt me! Like he did!"  
"No one is going to hurt you!" Another shouts.  
"I don't... No! I can't and won't believe it again. I lost way too much last time. I'm not a naive six year old anymore. You can't take advantage of me." She was crying, her arms stiff against her chest, fingers curled in claw-like angles. "I... I won't be fooled again. You will not fool me again!" Someone tackled her, both fell to the ground. Why did he tackle her? What was going on through Bill's head? Only Bill can answer that. He had her hands pinned down to both sides of her head. It was taking everything he had to hold her down. 

She kicked, writhed, and tried to bite just to get him off. Having him pin her like this made her feel so weak, and more of those daunting memories reminded her of what could happen. Bill didn't let her go. He was screaming at her, hoping she'd hear his voice instead of whatever the Entity was making her hear. Of course, this was the work of the Entity. It wasn't done torturing. It was never done. Why was Bill even surprised? Why was he fighting so hard to keep her here? _/broken little angel, broken little angel/_ The whispers were singing in her head now, making her screams even louder. At this point, Claudette and Feng Min have returned. Feng Min stares in bewilderment as Claudette runs over to try and help. She didn't know how, but she hoped to hold Brittany's head down would be enough. It wasn't. All it did was make her feel even more trapped, even more weak. _/ring around the rosie, ring around the rosie, pocket full of pose-ies/_ Now, Brittany is crying. The child's song wasn't innocent, as it had been sung to her that night -- multiple nights even. _/ashes, ashes --/_

"Please shut up!" She begs, her eyes sealed shut. "Brittany, listen to me!" Bill calls to her, "It's not real. It's not real!" "Stop hurting me." She says, still trying to get out of his grasp. "Brittany, we're not hurting you," Claudette whispers, hoping her voice was calm and gentle. "EVERYONE STOP!" Feng Min orders. The scene was a bit extreme. Both Bill and Claudette look up, but they still hold Brittany down. She was acting like a wild animal, and they didn't know if she was a danger to them. After all, she had killed someone before coming to the realm. Feng Min was heaving. What about this had her so riled up? She didn't really know, per se, but what she did know was that watching Brittany scream out helplessly, reminded her of herself. "Brittany," Feng Min had gotten on her hands and knees, moving one hand to Brittany's face, half cupping it. Brittany looks over immediately, her eyes widening.  
"You will not get the better of me." She tells Feng Min.  
"No. Because you're strong. Right?" Feng Min asks. "Right?" Brittany stares at her and nods once, slowly.  
"I'm stronger now." She tells her. "I can't be fooled again."  
"They hurt you before." Feng Min frowns. "They can't now." Brittany nods her head rapidly.  
"He- He- He- he took everything from me." She sniffled, her whole body began to relax. "Everything. I don't think, I don't think I'm human." Feng Min chuckles softly.  
"Oh, sweetheart, you're human. A little broken, but that's okay. I'm a bit broken, too." Feng Min has sat criss-cross next to Brittany. By now, Bill and Claudette have moved away. Brittany, however, is still laying on the ground.  
"I'm sorry," she cries, closing her eyes.  
"Don't be." Feng Min tells her, shaking her head. "We can't expect you to just be okay. It would be wrong for us to demand that you get over your past." Brittany opens her eyes.  
"But I am stronger." Feng Min nods.  
"You've always been strong."  
"No.." Brittany counters, "I wasn't always strong. I was weak." She started to shake again.  
"Easy," Feng Min tells her. "Easy." She grabs Brittany's hand -- finding herself okay with this...Feng Min was never one to be around people. She only ever went with Claudette, because Claudette was the only one Feng Min trusted. "It takes a lot to be strong." Suddenly, Brittany is scrambling to her feet. She has calmed enough to understand what is going on and she's afraid. Afraid of something much deeper and scarier. That _something_ only known by something lost to the far reaches of her mind.  
"I have to go. I have to go. I could hurt you." Some of the survivors gasp quietly, alarmed.  
"No." Feng Min argues, grabbing Brittany's arm.  
"She could hurt someone." Tapp cuts in.  
"Back off Tapp." Feng Min seethes. "You aren't going anywhere." She tells Brittany.  
"She's a loose cannon," Tapp tells Feng Min. He turns to Bill. "We can't let her stay. She could mistake us again for this 'him' person."  
"Tapp. No one dies here."  
"So, we should take the risk and allow potential danger amongst us?" Tapp asks Bill.  
"We are all in this horrible place, together!" Nea spouts out, she had her firsts clenched, and to be honest, she looked beyond pissed off. "So what if she has a few problems?" She says this, waggling her finger at Tapp, menacingly. "We all have our own crap. Aren't you supposed to be some sort of detective? Oh, that's right, you went crazy chasing some guy down! Leave her alone!"  
"Her problems are all too familiar for me. I for one, would rather not see it in the only safe place left in this dimension." Tapp counters, crossing his arms. "I've seen serial killers, dealt with them, locked them up," he says this while glaring directly at Brittany, "and she has all of the makings of one."  
"I didn't do anything I shouldn't have," Brittany whispered, staring at the flames. "Murder is murder," Tapp tells her with a scowl. "Will you drop it? It's over and done with now." Claudette asks. "Safe?!" Nea shouts, making Claudette groan. "Nowhere is safe in this Hell! We take what can get, yes, but why should we demean ourselves, because we're afraid of what could be? This girl has been through Hell. Tapp, damn it, look at her arms! Her legs! Does she not deserve some sort of a chance? Some benefit of the doubt?" "Has she given us any?" Tapp asks. Nea pauses. Brittany flinches. Everyone has gone quiet. "She doesn't have to." Nea finally says, breaking the silence. "She deserves time. We all are given time to adjust. She deserves that." "And in the meantime, she could end up torturing one of us." Tapp scoffs.  


The arguing came to a screeching halt when the mist grabs Nea, Feng Min, Bill, and Jane. Brittany watches as the mist attaches itself to their bodies, engulfing them in the process. Before they could be taken away, Claudette quickly hands them a few supplies, frowning in dismay as they disappear from sight. Brittany ambles over to a tree, one she has grown to, finding herself near it quite often. It was secluded, yet still noticeable -- even the flames of the fire still embraced it with its light. With a tired groan, Brittany closes her eyes in hopes to rest them. She doesn't hear Bill and Tapp chatting on the other side of the fire. Bill is trying to keep quiet and Tapp just wants an explanation. 

"I thought we discussed this already," Tapp begins, "Nothing dangerous stays at the campfire. Newer survivors will come and they shouldn't be brought into this camp with potential danger nearby."  
"I understand," Bill states, tossing a bog laurel satchel into the fire, "but, Nea is right. We should give her the benefit of the doubt."  
"You didn't feel that way before," Tapp reminds him. "I'm no idiot, Bill. I saw how you looked at her when she first arrived. Trust me, you're not the only one." Bill sighs.  
"Her arrival was different. She materialized in the Fog. That's never happened before."  
"It hasn't." Tapp agrees. "She could be a killer."  
"Doubtful." Bill dismisses the idea immediately.  
"How can you be so sure?" Tapp asks.  
"I've seen the barrier." Bill meets Tapp's gaze, "The killers are unable to cross it."  
"What if they've figured a way through or worked something out with the Entity."  
"Why are you so wound up about this?" Bill asks.  
"Oh, I don't know," Tapp sarcastically answers, "I wonder if it has anything to do with the way she tried to hit Nea."  
"Come on, Tapp. Do you hear yourself?" Bill asks, giving Tapp a look.  
"Look, I know I seem unreasonable, but I have every right to be concerned. We're in a world where we have no control. This campfire is the only place we're actually safe. Forgive me if I want to maintain that as much as possible." Bill groaned in annoyance.  
"Your worry isn't completely wrong or unwarranted. However," Bill glances over at Brittany as he speaks, noting how she had her arms crossed, her chest moved with each breath, her eyes closed, "That doesn't mean we act any less human." Tapp mutters to himself before nodding his head.  
"Fine. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. But I won't trust her. Someone should always keep an eye on her."

After they finished talking, Bill and Tapp dispersed -- likely heading to their own tents. It was relatively quiet now, minus the breathing of everyone and the crackling embers of the fire. Brittany opens her eyes at the distant sound of a cry in the Fog. No one else stirs around her, so she assumes she's the only one that hears it. She stands and begins to explore. What if someone was in danger? Of course, she was curious and pain didn't scare her, it enticed her. Quietly and discreetly, she bounds into the trees. The cry is heard again, and Brittany wonders who could be out here. She was told that Claudette and Feng Min came out here, no one else ever really went out. At least, from the past, what, day, she's been here, it's been like that. Eventually, she stops, looking around and then her gaze stumbles upon something unnatural. It shimmered and danced as if there was any light to reflect it. The moon's beams can't reach beneath the thick and dark foliage that canopies above her, so the light on this thing comes from it. She moves her hand to touch it, expecting something to zap her, only to find that her hand goes right through it. Gently, she pulls her hand back and tilts her head. What was it? She gasps and turns around quickly when she hears a twig snapping behind her. David appears out of the trees -- his arms were crossed and he had a look on his face.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked.  
"I heard a cry," she tells him, truthfully. "I came to investigate."  
"Tricks of the wind," he tells her.  
"Wind?" Brittany asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"Hard to believe, isn't it?" He asks, not expecting an answer. "This mere barrier is what separates us from the killers." Brittany looks back at it. She frowns.  
"I wonder what it's like over there for them." She says aloud, pushing her hand through it again. "The air feels the same as it does on this side." David reaches through the barrier, grabbing her hand and pulling it back.  
"No one has asked that question, you know." He tells her.  
"Is it not a fair one though?" She tilts her head, gazing at him.  
"It is," he agrees. "I suppose no one wants to humanize them." He states looking back at the barrier.  
"Why, because they hunt us down in trials?" She asked. David nods.  
"I still believe they're monsters." He utters gently, turning to leave.  
"I don't think I could," Brittany says, crossing her arms in an attempt to hug herself. "At least, not the Huntress." David raises an eyebrow.  
"Why's that? Didn't she kill Nea?" Brittany nods.  
"Yea."  
"Then why see her as anything else other than a monster?" Brittany frowned.  
"Because, the way that trial went, reminded me of someone." David chuckles harshly.  
"Who?"  
"Myself." She looks at him. "I don't remember what I did exactly, but I do remember killing someone. I did it because I had to."  
"No one has to kill anyone." David counters.  
"David," Brittany sighs, "if only I could explain this better."  
"No, you don't need to," David tells her, dismissing the whole matter. "I don't know what you went through. It's not my place to judge." He glanced down, looking at a strange and circular scar on her bare shoulder. Brittany hadn't noticed it.  
"I'm going to help gather supplies. That way, I'm not at the camp as much and no one will be nervous." She says, startling David -- forcing them to make eye contact at that moment. David eyes her.  
"You don't have to do that." Brittany shrugs.  
"Why not?" She asks. "I see no problem with it." She looks at the barrier, "Besides, I know what this is now. I'll know to avoid it."  
"Claudette doesn't like it when Feng Min follows her out. She doesn't like to endanger anyone else."  
"Oh?" Brittany chuckles. "I guess it's a good thing I'm a sucker for pain." She reaches her hand towards him but pauses as she is unsure what to do. He watches her and gives her a moment to think. Finally, she carefully pats his shoulder and nods. "Let's go back. I don't want Tapp getting suspicious." David chuckles.  
"Was that an attempt at a joke?" Brittany peers at him from the corner of her eye as she begins to walk back.  
"Was it?" She asks him, humor lacing her tone, "I don't think I'd even know humor." She chuckles. David follows suit, chuckling as well.  
"For what it's worth, I trust you." He says, keeping a short distance between them as they headed back. Brittany frowns, knowing he can't see it.  
"Maybe I can come to trust you, as well." She tells him, lying. David smiles, oblivious to the lie.  
"I'm sure you will."

As soon as the two return, Jane materializes by the fire screaming. Brittany freezes at the treeline, watching as David rushes to Jane's side along with the others. She can see David reaching down, grabbing Jane's hand, someone else doing the side on her other side. They help Jane to a log. She was hyperventilating. Claudette hands Jane a satchel, and tells the woman to take calm and deep breaths. Jane does so, relaxing as she comes to. Brittany finally walks over to the fire, slowly. She doesn't want to draw attention to herself. Tapp scoffs at her and at the scene, before returning to the tent. He uttered something along the lines of 'is that what all the fuss is about'. Brittany sits on a log, keeping her distance, and leans in so she can hear what they were talking about. No one has spoken first. They were giving Jane time to recuperate. Said woman has placed the bag to her side, taking in another deep breath. Eventually, Claudette breaks the silence.

"What happened?" She asks, gently, rubbing Jane's shoulder comfortingly.  
"It was the Oni," Jane says, quietly. Brittany almost couldn't hear her.  
"Oh no..." Claudette whispers. "The others?"  
"Still in the trial." Jane moved her hand up to her mouth, placing her fingers in between her teeth. Her eyes fluttered with relief and a sigh left her lips. "He took my tongue again." She shuttered. The comment made Brittany's eye widen in realization.  
_"I still believe they're monsters."_  
"Is he--"  
"Is he still not hooking?" Jane finishes, scoffing. "No. He catches us and immediately kills us. He loves the chase. I can tell by the way he came after me." Jane shivers aggressively. "He looks into your eyes as he stabs you with his blade. Then, he rips out your tongue. While you're impaled, choking on your own blood, he roars out like he does after he absorbs your blood. Then he proceeds to pound your body with his bloody club only _after_ he removes his precious sword. He does it until you die."  
"Jane --" Jane quickly interrupts Claudette, raising her hand in the air before pointing it at Brittany.  
"Whenever you go against him," she says, her voice cold, hard even, "Hide and pray he doesn't find you."


	4. broken.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Don't cry, the world is only on fire. The flames are cackling in the mayhem -- taking advantage of the fuel that it needs to thrive. It'll burn everything down. All of it reduced to ashes. It's what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted this destruction, this death, this mayhem._
> 
> **All of us have our dark thoughts -- some darker than others.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did some research on demons in the Japanese culture, because that's where our lovely demons come from. I couldn't find any though that had a unique enough background annd drank/absorbed blood e.o So, I decided to just make up my own demon name, but you'll see realistic Japanese demons and American Demons (vampires, oni's, etc, etc) be mentioned throughout the story.
> 
> Not going to lie, though, I was hoping for a super awesome Demon king that bathed in and drank human blood ,-,

### Broken

_"People are remembered for the challenges they overcome. You can run away and forget what you're capable of or you can face your fears and remind the world of who you are." -Jane Romero_

What does broken mean? Is it only broken if it isn't whole? Is it only broken when someone says it's broken? How can someone truly determine when something is broken? Simply, something that is broken is often obvious. Other times, one has to test if something is broken. Objects, inanimate things, are easily discernible when they're broken or not. Often blatant or just a mere test can prove if and when some _thing_ is broken. In addition, broken things are either replaced or thrown away. However, how can someone define a broken _person_? Are they then _replaceable_? Believe it or not, humanity has it down to a science -- how to get better and how to define the broken piece of you. With people, being broken can mean a number of things. The most common broken person is that of a broken heart. Broken hearts are usually due to loss, pain, or despair. Loss can be a death in the family or something as simple as a breakup. Pain can be the literal meaning of a broken heart, where the heart is deformed or perhaps the person had a heart attack. Despair, of course, is self-explanatory. Despair can originate from any number of things, making it near as common as loss. However, broken doesn't always mean the heart is broken. One's own mind can be broken as well -- retardation for example. Broken minds can also be due to a traumatic experience or even years of neglect.

For Brittany, her suicide wasn't random. Rather, she attempted suicide. When she had jumped, she did it, because the words she heard made everything in life meaningless. She threw everything away, mostly her humanity, to rid the world of _him_. Kaleb Daniels. Kaleb was Brittany's neighbor when she was six years old. She only ever knew him as Shepherd. Her parents referred to him like that, so she followed suit. Kaleb would be the first person to diminish her trust in humanity. On the day of her suicide, Brittany had been traveling the alleyways, searching dumpsters for food. She was hungry, and she had zero qualms with getting food from _anywhere_. Little did she know, however, she was being followed. Stopping in front of an iron-grey dumpster, the thing was actually located behind a restaurant -- at least, Brittany hoped this was the right one. Most places had their dumpsters in the back, so it was odd to see only one back here and not multiple. Almost easily, she skillfully climbed up the large obstacle. Large only because she was actually five feet tall. Five feet on the dot. Once on top, she pulled open the right lid, struggling a bit as the lid was practically half her size. She was thankful it had a double-sided lid, and she was sitting on one of them.

Inside, she can see she made the right call. It was certainly the restaurant's dumpster. Before she could rummage, voices catch her attention. She looks behind her, the way she came, and sees them leaning against the walls at the end of the alleyway, their arms crossed. Shrugging, she went on about her business. Many people did what she was doing right now. Food and water were essential in survival -- survival doesn't care how you do it, as long as you do it. She stumbles across a to-go plate, still closed, with half-eaten rice, chicken, and fries. Without a second thought, she pulls the tray out, dangles her legs over the dumpster, and begins to eat. The smell used to make her stomach churn, but now, she was accustomed to it. Suddenly, the guys, it was just the two, but now there were at least six standing there. This she recognized. She was no stranger to thugs, muggers, and the like. She puts the tray back into the dumpster and hops off with ease. She crosses her arms and walks the opposite way. All of them begin to follow her.

Her heart began to race and her legs immediately carried her as she ran away from them. Once she started running, they started running. Refusing to look back, she found herself suddenly climbing up one of the five-story buildings. Her height was never a hindrance, to an extent, and she knew how to work with it. She struggled only slightly to climb up a ladder that was just barely out of her reach if she stood feet level. Once she was climbing up it, she looked down and saw the men gathering around at the bottom. She paused to stick her tongue out at them and quickly kicked at them if they dared to get to close to her. Once she felt confident enough to continue climbing, she looked back towards the top and made her way there. She didn't know why she was going up, but up she was going. Finally, she made it to the top of the ladder, now standing on a metal stairway that had a small platform outside each window as it went up. She followed the stairs up, savoring her headstart.

She nearly tripped multiple times, thankful for the railings that kept her on her feet. Below her, the thundering footsteps on metal clanged throughout the silent air, reminding her that she was being chased. This wasn't the first time she'd been chased down, but it was often just one person -- a man usually, and she'd wake up the next day in the alleyway feeling used. She dreaded what this could mean for her. Six people banded together to chase her down. She was a quiet person and kept off territories that were clearly marked. She never started trouble and kept her distance. She was always submissive when confronted even though she _desperately_ wanted to make them pay for their own insolence by crossing paths with _her_. Now, now she just didn't understand. Her careful and submissive behavior never gained her a bad reputation with the local gangs and groups, but here she was getting chased up a stairway to the top of a building that will very likely be a dead end. It was too late to change course, despite realizing her dilemma. She wanted to scream at them and ask what they were doing and why, but she needed all of her energy to get away from them, whoever they were.

After rubber meeting metal, the whole group stood at the top of the building. Brittany's chest heaved, each breath exasperated. She never felt so exhausted. It was no misconception, the girl had eaten very little, never enough to really handle such exertions. She was lucky to be alive on many accounts -- in reality, Brittany isn't fit as a fiddle. Her blue skirt waved helplessly against her frail legs. Only her un-shoed feet could be seen under the skirt, and it was evident her feet were merely skin and bone. Her pink shirt hung to her very body as if she'd been soaked from head to toe. The shirt hid most of her ribs, but every now and then, the subtle wind would blow the blouse against her body and prove what had laid beneath it. Her hair, a straggly mess of luscious blonde locks, hung from her head. The locks fit her face perfectly, despite her face being of bone and skin as well. Her eyes were sunken in their sockets, a paleness befell her. No one was blind, either, too many reddened scars that covered her arms and feet. The clothes themselves were browned with age, rips and tatters covered the outfit, marking the wear and tear of it. Brittany was shivering with anger. She demanded answers. She glanced among the men.

Suddenly, a door, her hope of an escape that sat just a few meters away, swung open and more guys ran out, some even stayed by the door, smug looks in their eyes and arms crossed. There was something eerily familiar about these guys. Brittany eyed each of them, their clothes all matched. Black suits that were loose enough for movement such as the chase she'd just undergone against them. The suits weren't coal-black -- more black-grey. An emblem sat in a well-known crest on their left breasts. The symbol made her gasp. This was Kaleb's brigade. She took one step back, nearly falling then, her body screeching to a halt. She looked down and took a silent gulp. Down below, she could see the city. She was overlooking the roads, the cars, the buildings, this wasn't an alleyway that she had spent her last four years running and living in. The city below was actually... _beautiful_.

"Hello," One of them called, breaking the silence, drawing her attention back to them. "You've been very troublesome birdy, you know." She scowled at him.  
"I don't even know why you're after me," then she pointed at the symbol on his chest, "that brigade should be disbanded."  
"Oh?" the same asked, "Why is that?"  
"I killed them all." She says casually, as if he should know that. Instead, to her surprise, he began to laugh. The laugh in itself was mocking and spiteful.  
"Yet here we are, birdy." He says coolly. "Did you honestly think you could kill _all_ of us?" Brittany nearly growled.  
"I don't think, I know, because I did!"  
"Oh, if you're so sure, my apologies. I should be dead, then right? Do you even remember me, birdy?" Brittany paused, eying him. His face was clean, shaven, like a baby's bottom. He had chocolate brown eyes and raven-black hair. How could she forget? This man was absent on the day of her murder-spree.  
"Henry," she breathed, shuttering. Henry chuckles again.  
"I knew my mark could never be forgotten." Brittany unconsciously rubbed her left arm over a circular scar. "Did you miss me, by any chance?"  
"No!" She said quickly, practically hissing at him. "You were lucky that day." Henry tilts his head, holding his smile.  
"Lucky? Darling, I'm pretty sure you didn't hurt anyone. I have a feeling we were attack by a demon group that thrives on human blood. A Callicantzaros shoot off most likely. You're nothing but a toy for Kaleb. You are incapable of such bloodshed. They spared you, for whatever reason, so do all of us a favor, and come home. Kaleb will be mighty upset with the way you've let yourself go."  
"Kaleb is dead!" Brittany shouted, "We both know he is!" Henry laughs, his laugh a bane of her existence now.  
"You are so sure for someone who had nothing to do with that massacre."  
"I'm not going back." Brittany seethed. "And I'm sure, because I saw him!!"  
"Tell me, then, birdy, how did he look?" Brittany's eyes widened. The memory came in a flash --

Kaleb's body was whole, yet his flesh had been ripped into by jagged and ferocious claws. Blood spewed from every orifice, and the gurgling sounds Kaleb made reminded Brittany he died by choking on his own blood. His hands were marked with claw-marks, legs marked with bites. One of his arms, she remembered clearly, had been hanging on to its socket by bone alone -- fragmented bone at that. She remembered being coated in blood as well. One of the reasons why she was so sure she had something to do with it. Another thing that she'll never forget, is the way he smiled at her the whole time. He knew he was dying, but he wanted the last memory of him to be that of his smug smile. Brittany shook her head quickly. The memory only exasperated her fragile state of mind and she knew she'd lash out and do something stupid. Instead, she decided to make it clear to Henry by explaining how Kaleb _looked_ in his deathbed.

"Blood coated every inch of his skin, dripping, oozing, down his body like sweat beads in a hot summer's day. The wounds were deep and bleeding profusely, made by jagged claws that had no intent on being gentle against his flesh. He choked on his own blood -- blood that entered his lungs as he tried to take in breaths of air, instead met with the hot iron-tinged flavor of the liquid. I watched him choke to death in his bed, his own white room - red from the spewage of blood. Like he was a volcano that finally erupted." She looked at Henry, a glint in her eye as she recounted the memory for him, her own smile gracing her lips.  
"Then tell me this, birdy," Henry begins, shaking off his own shock and anger, "Why is he alive and well and begging for you to come home?"  
"You lie..." Brittany counters, disbelieving him.  
"Do I?" He chuckles again. Does he know how to do anything else? As he chuckles, however, he pulls something out of his pocket -- a phone, and gently he scrolls through it before pulling a video up. Before he turns it towards Brittany, she can already hear Kaleb's voice.  
"Henry, when you find my Angel, please bring her home. I know she must be lost out there, unable to fly. Tell her I miss her dearly and that I forgive her." Once the camera was turned to her, she could see the evident clawed scars on him. His face, arms, legs. Even looked like one of his arms had been amputated and replaced with a robotic arm.  
"He's dead! It's not true! I killed him, I rid the world of that monster!"

Suddenly, something snapped. An innocent string of fate, if you will, snapped free. Brittany's eyes widened as tears brimmed the corners. Realization dawned on her. She felt her body become light as a feather and a few thoughts crossed her mind. _I never actually killed him. I failed. I lost everything, endured everything, and all of it was for naught._ She found herself glancing down at the city again. Tears had already begun to roll down her boney cheeks. She sniffled as she watched the world below. The cars raced one another in all directions. The people were a blur as they speed-walk across the sidewalks. The lights flickered and beamed, proving to her that down there, darkness was a coward. A pang of hate had filled her being. None of them knew what she went through. None of them cared. None of them batted an eye when she traversed alleyways in only flesh and bones or when men with fancy suits grabbed her and forced her to have sex with them. None of them listened when she cried out for help. They all ignored her, left her to rot and wither away. She chuckled suddenly, realizing something else.

"I had always been a withered soul. I called upon your demons to slay my enemies. I thought the world would be better without him." She looks up just barely, her eyes were widened only slightly with purpose, a strange sadistic smile graced her lips. "Now, though, I realize that the world will never be better. All of them down there," she uses her hand to emphasize this -- her tone firm, cold, and dark, "Are just like him. I've lost my humanity in hopes to rid the world of a monster, but there will always be another lurking around the corner. I'm done giving parts of myself away."  
"Birdy, no." Brittany gazed at him, her smile softening ever-so-slightly. She stretched her arms outward to either side, as though they were wings instead.  
"I suppose in my final moments, it's only right to attempt flight. Don't you agree, Henry?"

Henry rushed forward, his hand narrowly missing the pink shirt as she fell backward. Her eyes glued to the stars as she wanted that to be the last thing she saw. They twinkled peacefully up there -- oblivious to her dismayed heart. She didn't frown though. She kept her arms held outwards and continued to smile. Time seemed to slow down as she fell and she was okay with that. She had never felt such peace and acceptance as she did at this moment. Life was meaningless. It wasn't worth fighting for. The bad outweighed the good and no one was worth saving. In the end, she only ever had herself. A thought that should sadden her, but instead brought her more peace. Before she made an impact, she closed her eyes and let out a small breath of air;

"Suppose I never had wings," she smiled, a lone tear trekking down her cheek. "That's okay, I didn't want to fly anyway."

When she made impact with the concrete-ground, her body should have become a pile of flesh, guts, and blood, but instead, her impact made an indention in the ground. Screams from frightened people swarmed the area and already frantic blaring alarms called attention. Brittany was motionless, her body broken beneath the seemingly perfect boney flesh. Her arms were still held outward, a smile still on her lips, and the lone tear finally fell behind her ear and under her hair. The people that ran around her were unsure of what to do. Once the ambulance had arrived, everyone was forced back a good twenty feet from her. The officers that were there were trying to keep the situation calm. One of the EMT's sat next to her, a gentlewoman with soft green eyes. She quickly checked Brittany's pulse -- her heart strong and refusing. A stretcher was brought over, and they prepared to move her onto it.

However, her soul had already left her body -- the thing was so strange to look at it. Souls comprise of essence that make up a human. Human souls take on the color a gentle green, quiet, calm, and only change in shading depending on how that person's mind worked. People with morals and sympathy/empathy, were often a light shade of green, whereas people with minds similar to a serial killer were darkened. Brittany's soul comprised of three colors; blue, faded green, and red. No one could see the soul as they moved her dead body away, but eventually, the world around her soul faded into a loving yellow hue. Brittany couldn't speak or move, all she was at the moment was matter. Someone dressed in black, however, met her soul in the yellow hue. They spoke to her in riddles, all of which she couldn't understand. The riddles were drowned out by a loud whispering voice that spoke to her.

**_"I can give you justice. You can rid the world of the same monsters that took everything from you. Allow me to take you there -- give you strength when you felt so weak. It's the power you crave, let me grant you that power."_ **

Before she could decide, the yellow hue was, in other words, attacked as a daunting black shadow crept into the scene, engulfing the yellow. Strange claw-like things with orange spindles and orange veins impaled the black figure that spoke in riddles. The figure dies, crumbling to the ground in a pile of ash. She could only exist in the position she had died, her soul unable to do anything in this form. The claws crawled towards her, a black mist wrapping around her form and the claws followed, gently encasing her form, minding her essence as well as it could. She couldn't say no, she couldn't say yes, but what she felt was a fiery vengeance within her heart. She wanted to take her anger out on someone. She needed to.

_**"And you will."** _

  
**||**

"Nea, I can do this," Brittany says, confidently. It had been at least ten trials since Brittany arrived that she participated in. She was adept enough to do generators and quick enough to dispose of totems. Totems were actually her strong suit and enabled the team to put the focus elsewhere. The totems were dangerous, especially if they were lit. If all five were left up or even if one was left up, an omen could occur, making the exit gates null and useless.  
"I'm sure you can," Nea says, still shaking her head, but whispering as her hands move about within the guts of the generator in front of her. "But, I still think you're better suited right here on this generator."  
"But what if Steve is getting chased right now?" Brittany asked, nearly messing up a wire. "Shoot, sorry, sorry, I'll pay attention." She grumbles as she pulls it forward and then back gently.  
"Steve and David can handle themselves," Nea stated simply, still trying to discourage Brittany.  
"We've been practicing, you know," Brittany tells her, an annoyed expression on her face. "You guys can't always take the aggro. Wait," Brittany pulls both hands out of the generator and crosses them, "You don't think I can do it!"  
"Finish the generator you heathen." Nea scolded, pulling one hand out to point at the generator.  
"I don't wanna." Brittany scoffed, looking away.  
"Girl, if you don't get on this generator right now --"  
"You and I both know I am okay with sleeping by the logs," Brittany smirked.  
"Ugh," Nea grumbled. "Fine! Go. I can't very well keep you here, now can I?"  
"I mean," Brittany paused. "I'mma just say no and go before you change your mind."  
"Good idea."

Brittany climbed down the stairs of the old tower, leaving Nea to finish the generator. Nea told her that the killer was known as the Trapper -- his name fitting, because all around the map a beartrap could be waiting patiently for a reckless survivor that wasn't paying attention. Nea also told her that the Trapper likes to trap areas where they'd be often -- anywhere pallets and windows were located. At the bottom of the stairs, there was a window to her right and a large archway entrance to her left behind a stack of wooden crates. Brittany went out of the entranceway, untrusting of the window. She's been wanting to distract the killers since her confidence got high enough for it. She's also gotten comfortable being around so many survivors at the campfire. Comfortable to an extent that is. Everyone wants to know her backstory, but in truth, she barely remembers any of it -- even the fall was a blur when she tried to think about it.

Her comfort with the others was only that -- comfort. She still didn't trust them and she still didn't open up to them and allow them into her own world. For her, it was only a matter of time until they stabbed her in the back and she'd go off on her own. However, for now, she's taken a sort of solace in being around people who didn't want to hurt her, use her, or throw her away. She won't deny that the atmosphere is warmer than what she's used to and she almost wants to relish in it forever. Quietly, she heads over towards a large brick wall which is broken into multiple parts, one of which a window resided. Brittany easily stepped over the grass and made her way to the window. She placed both hands onto the windowsill and looked over. She saw something tan and metallic below. She went around the wall and found the beartrap. She disarmed it and soon after, her heart began to beat like it had every time the killer got close.

Which was another thing, Brittany had actually gone against several different killers in her past ten trials? The Plague, Huntress, Shape, Legion, Clown, Pig, Cannibal, Demogorgon, Doctor, and the Wraith as well. Each killer was vastly different from the other, and no matter what happened, she always died in each one. In addition to being killed every time, she was also never given the chance to be saved -- the Entity would immediately kill her once she had been put on the hook. It was actually the main reason why Nea didn't want Brittany to do what she was doing now. Distracting the killer by getting chased. At the campfire, or rather on the survivor's side, there are old ruins where a window, pallet setup resides. Nea and Feng Min take her out to practice every chance they got, so Brittany knew how to run it and keep the killer occupied. The Trapper is obviously annoyed. He arrives a few moments after she disarmed the trap -- her heart racing a mile a minute.

"Are you going to, I don't know, chase me?" She asks him, taunting a bit as well. He'd been standing on the other side of the window, holding his trap, looking back at her with scorn. Of course, she couldn't see it through his mask. "Come on, I'm an easy sacrifice." She tells him, knowing very well that she was if the Entity continued it's pattern of quickly devouring her.

The Trapper made a frustrated grumble before he vaulted over the window. Brittany squeaked. She hadn't been expecting him to do that! Momentarily shocked, she ran around the structure wrong and had to waste the pallet ahead of time. The Trapper growled as the wooden thing landed on him. Swiftly, he destroyed it, pieces of it flying everywhere, and Brittany had already made her way to the window, immediately vaulting it. The trapper followed after, his footsteps crunching the dirt and gravel beneath his soles. Brittany glanced back and smiled. He was pursuing her. Happily, she ran toward the strongest loop in the area -- what the others call; killer shack. She looked back once more, just far enough for a fast vault. She saw the Trapper pull off. Maybe it wasn't trapped? Brittany halted in front of the window, a foot away. There was grass there. She looked over the grass, kneeling forward and she saw the shiny tan trap staring back up at her.

Soon she hears a generator sing in the distance. She smiles and works to disarm the trap. Once it is disarmed she stood straight and placed her hands on her hips. Unbeknownst to her, the trapper had returned, his presence completely undetected. A smirk fell behind his mask. Brittany tapped her chin for a second before vaulting over the window. There was a generator inside, so she decided if he wouldn't chase her, then she would do a generator, maybe bring him back to her. Her scream was sudden and more of a gasp. She found herself grabbing onto broad shoulders for balance -- the metal hooks piercing the flesh of the same shoulder. Brittany was too stunned to notice she'd been grabbed during the vault. Once she came to, she noticed the hooks clearly and began to trace the skin around them. The Trapper shivered notably and increased his speed to the hook. Before he could get there, however, Nea arrived out of nowhere, flashing him with a bright light. In a frustrated grunt, he dropped Brittany to cover his face.

"Uh, hi Nea." Brittany chuckled nervously. Nea ignored her, grabbing the girl's hand and dragging her away immediately.  
"So?"  
"Don't you dare say I told--"  
"-- you so? I did. I did tell you so. Next time --"  
"Nea!" Brittany ripped her hand from Nea's and glared at her. "How will I learn anything if I don't try? The generators, the totems, the gates, the saving, that isn't all I can do! You guys can't keep going down for me!"  
"Brittany, you do realize the Entity takes a small piece of our soul each time we are sacrificed. It's small enough that it doesn't really hurt us -- but Bill and Claudette explained that we have to strive to survive or we risk losing a piece of us. Our memories are tied --" Before Nea could continue, the heartbeats rang loud and clear within their chests, interrupting them. Nea pointed toward a locker with a glare. Brittany clenched her fists, shook her head, and immediately took off.  
"I'm sorry Nea, but there's nothing for me here." Brittany states gently, knowing no one could hear her. She didn't care if she lost every bit of herself.

The trapper easily picked up her trail, following after diligently. Brittany glanced back to make sure and smiled gently at him. He almost paused in his pursuit. Almost. Granted, the smile wasn't taunting, it wasn't spiteful or teasing. It was a genuine smile, a playful one even. It was as if she was saying 'let's do this, you and I'. No survivor ever just _smiled_ at him. Hell, the survivors were often downright afraid of him! Some go as far as saying he was a monster! Sure, he kills them, over and over, and he has done things he isn't proud of, but that doesn't necessarily make him a monster. Right? Does doing bad make someone... bad? The Trapper's mind was quickly swarmed with the Entity's whispers. The trial wasn't meant for thinking. Not thinking, no. No thinking. Killing. Only killing. Sacrificing and killing. Brittany immediately saw the window in the tall coal tower -- the same from earlier when she was on the generator.

She glanced back and noted the distance. She decided she'd avoid the window, wary of the potential trap laying await there. Skillfully, she rounded the car and barrels, easily finding the entrance from earlier and stairs leading up. Without hesitation, she took to the stairs. The stairs led up to the generator and a drop. Often, drops are dangerous and could hinder one in a trial. However, Nea has had Brittany taking time out in the most hill-like areas of the Fog, for these situations. _'You will be stuck, you know. Not a rock and a hard place, but a fall could very well be the only way out. I'll show ya how to jump down without injuring yourself, then using that moment to burst into action.'_ Smiling again, Brittany jumped off, careful, almost as if she had wings. She could feel the air whip past her head and it made her feel so free. A brief moment, her suicide traced her memories, but she ignored them, remembering the trial at hand.

Once she made impact with the ground, she took that opportunity to run -- a generator dinging off in the distance. The Trapper had lost even more distance with her stunt and he was making audible grumbles of annoyance. Brittany easily maneuvered around unsafe pallets, unafraid and filled with drive and adrenaline. She's never felt this before. The pain, the hate, the sorrow, the fear, all of it seemed washed away by this chase. This chase that could end her in one fell swoop. Every chase before always ended immediately, because everyone else took the aggro and the killer at the time would just hit her down then pursue the others -- she was always, _always_ the weak link. Right now, she felt strong. It felt wonderful. Another generator goes off and the Trapper roars in irritation, a slight contort of his body made him stomp away. Brittany watched in shock. What made his body do that? She wanted to follow after and investigate, but she decided against it, trying to push it down. Before she went far, another generator went off, and the exit gates sprung to life. Brittany happened to be going towards one and she immediately took action.

"Not bad, girl!" David applauded, coming out of nowhere.  
"Thanks!" Brittany said, shyly yes, but there was definitely enthusiasm in her tone. The gate hummed and beeped, alerting them to it. The door slid open. Brittany took a step forward, but something made her halt.

Pain rushed up to her spine, making her crumple onto the floor, grasping the sides of her head. David tried to pull her to the gate, but she was frozen in place, almost like something was holding her there. Unwilling to leave her behind, David stood by her, hoping to find whatever it was keeping her in place. The screaming didn't settle, but she somehow managed to shout; _"Go!"_ David, reluctantly, ran through the gate, disintegrating once through it enough, likely materializing back at the campfire. Brittany tried to move, but any movement made towards the exit exaggerated the pain. She deserved this escape, didn't she? She did well! Eventually, the familiar heartbeat came, making Brittany hope he'd see her suffering.

"Please," she said between the screams -- at this point she had fallen to her side, holding her head. What was this?? Why was she feeling this much pain?? "Please, help me!" She cried out.

The Trapper watched in curiosity. She hadn't left as the others did. He knelt down beside her, placing his cleaver on her right. He managed to get her gaze -- the blue in her eyes were definitely straining. He sighed, standing again. He'd of let her go, but instead, he picked her up. He could hear her whispering thank you into his ear. The further away they got from the door, the better she felt. She didn't fight. She had no reason to. She was thankful he made the pain go away. Both hear the humming. He took a quick look at the hook before walking over to the very thing everyone called -- the hatch. He set Brittany down beside it, hope she'd walk into it, but she seemed afraid.

"I don't know," she told him, shaking. He nudged her, using his other hand to point at it. Carefully, Brittany set her foot into it. The dark mist seemed deceitful -- it wasn't the same. It was thicker, less to do with the Entity. She held the top of the ladder, looking up at him. "Thank you," she told him gently, leaving him a smile. Quickly, she descended into the hatch, disintegrating and the hatch closed, disappearing.

When she materialized back at the campfire, her heart raced, mind swarmed, and she couldn't help but feel like she may explode. What had just happened? Why couldn't she go through the gate? Why was she able to escape through the hatch? She looked over at Bill, who was looking back at her. She took a deep breath. She needed answers, and who better to ask than one of the two oldest survivors here?


End file.
